Moments
by smurfette729
Summary: Takes place immediately following the finale. Follows Pam and a little of Jim as she struggles to think through what has happend, and tries to make a decision. Includes important moments in her relationships.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I would have posted this sooner, but I have been having technical difficulties. Plus, I wanted to make sure I had somewhere to go with the story and that I had a good portion of it written, since I know that I if didn't, it would never get done. This is going to be a multiple chapter story. Chapters will be added if I get reviews, since there's no point in posting a story no one is reading. So please review! I really enjoy being judged...

Disclaimer: I don't own it and am in no way affiliated with this show. I'm just a huge dork.

* * *

He's kissing her. 

He's _kissing_ her.

_He's_ kissing her!

And she's kissing him back.

And it feels good. It's feels _right_.

So she lets it happen for a moment. One moment.

But now the moment is over and reason has entered her mind. This can't happen. _They_ can't happen. It needs to stop. She needs to stop it.

So she does. She removes her hands from his hair, immediately missing the feel of the thick, soft strands beneath her fingers, but needing to continue. She moves her hands to his chest, allowing herself only the smallest amount of pleasure at the unexpected muscle she feels through the layers of his clothing as she gently pushes him away.

She's engaged. And he is not her fiance. She can't keep kissing him. She's not that person. She can't be That Person. Roy deserves better than to have his fiance kissing another man just weeks before their wedding.

"I'm sorry. I can't."

Jim expects this. He's not sure what he was thinking, kissing her like that. She's engaged. He allows his eyes to dart back and forth, shocked that he's kissed her, embarrassed to have let himself get so carried away for the second time in ten minutes.

"Yeah."

What was he thinking? Maybe he wasn't. Maybe that was the problem.

"I have to go."

As she begins to speak again, his eyes are drawn back to hers and he thinks that not thinking wasn't such a bad thing. He thinks he should do it more often.

She has to go. She has to leave. When his eyes meet hers she almost stays. Her resolve begins to crumble and she knows she has to leave now.

Now, before she lets him kiss her again. She can tell he's thinking about it.

Now, before she becomes That Person and kisses him before he has the chance to.

Now, before she loses herself completely.

She wasn't lying before, when she said she couldn't. She can't. She's engaged and she has always been honest and faithful. It's who she is. Sometimes she feels it's all she has.

She gathers every last ounce of willpower and strength she has and walks away, leaving him standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes cast downwards while he searches the floor for the strength to move, to breath, to keep living. He's lost in a haze of emotions he can't begin to unravel. He's scared, angry, sad, relieved. He's angry at himself for letting things happen the way they did. He had been planning to tell her he was transferring. How had things gotten so out of control?

Though he knows it's strange under the circumstances, he's relieved. He's relieved that things are out in the open. Relieved he doesn't have to pretend anymore. For better or worse, she knows and that's something.

He's sad. He's sad because he knows things are different now. He's changed things and he doesn't think they can ever go back to the way they were before, when they were friends. Best friends. _Best _friends. Sure, he'd spent hours thinking about them, together, wondering what it would be like. Sure, a piece of him had died every time she'd mentioned Roy or her wedding or their plans for the weekend. Every time he had to see her with him, kissing him, hugging him. Every time he had to see that hurt expression on her face after Roy said something insensitive or did something to make her upset - or didn't do something that was important to her. But at least they'd been friends. He'd had that. And it was special and real. And now he doesn't know what to expect. So he's scared, too. Scared that he's lost her forever. Even the little piece of her he'd had before was enough. It was something.

He stands there, in the dimly lit office, hands in his pockets, lost in his thoughts and taking comfort in the feel of the fabric enveloping his hands. Because at least that is familiar and something he understands.

He's not sure how long he stands there but his feet eventually find a way to do what his mind cannot and get him to his car. He makes it home without knowing how and somehow finds his way to his room. He crawls into bed, fully clothed, and falls into a fitful sleep. For the first time in living memory he does not dream.

Not wanting to see or talk to anyone, Pam calls a cab to take her home. She knows it's impractical and that she should just track down Angela for a ride home. But she needs the time to sort through what has just happened, needs the time to be alone, if only for a few minutes. Anyway, Angela had been with Dwight the last time Pam had seen her, and Pam doesn't feel like being with both of them, together. She still hasn't confirmed that there's anything going on between them, but her suspicions are strong and the last thing she wants is to be in the presence of two people who are sure about each other, who know what they want, and who are certain about their relationship, however strange and unusual it may seem to those on the outside.

* * *

So she takes a cab home and the cabbie is unusually talkative. After a few attempts at engaging Pam in conversation and receiving nothing but grunts and tight smiles in return, he gives up, turns on the music and drives. Lost in her thoughts, Pam doesn't notice when they pull up in front of her apartment. It takes the cab driver a full minute to break through the jungle of her thoughts and bring her back to earth. Normally this would embarrass Pam, but after the night she's had it's not even a blip on the radar.

She pays the cabbie and walks to the door, digging in her purse for her keys. She is still in a fog and it takes her three attempts to get the right key in the right lock before she can open the door and go in.

She heads to the bedroom, relieved that Roy is asleep. She knows that sleeping will be a long time coming for her, but she changes into her favorite pajamas anyway, needing the comfort and warmth their soft fabric provides. Then she heads to the kitchen, makes a cup of tea, and settles in for a long night of sifting through thoughts and emotions, dreams and reality.

It's not until the sun begins to peak over the edge of the horizon and the kitchen is filled with a reddish-orange haze that Pam thinks she should go to bed. She is no closer to untangling the web of complications her life has become but she knows the alarm will be going off in two short hours and she has to work today. She hopes that sleep will help clear her head.

She puts her cup in the sink and heads to the bedroom, taking care not to wake Roy, knowing it makes him grumpy and not wanting to face questions about why her side of the bed is undisturbed.

She gazes down at him, taking in the sight of him sleeping in the early morning light. He looks so...content. The glow from the rising sun shines lightly through the curtains, bathing him in a pool of yellow light. He looks almost angelic as he lies there, blissfully unaware that his fiance has spent the night away from him, trying to sort out her feelings for another man.

As she gazes at him, Pam feels the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile. She thinks that maybe it will be okay, maybe this life, this man, is what she really wants. Maybe happiness can be a receptionist job and a small apartment in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

Pam lets her eyes roam over his face, taking in his smooth, creamy forehead, his rosy cheeks, and his dimples, visible even when his face is completely relaxed. Her smile widens when she gets to his dimples. They have always been her favorite of his features. They were the first thing she noticed when they met. She thinks they may have been part of the reason she fell in love with him all those years ago. Her smile fades and her heart fills with pain as she realizes that, as much as she loves Roy, she's no longer sure if it's the right kind of love. She's no longer sure whether the love she feels is for the Roy sleeping before her or the Roy she met ten years ago, when they were both young and filled with hope and idealistic views about life and love. When things still made sense.

Pam crawls into bed, snuggling close to Roy, wanting to feel the familiar sense of comfort and predictability she has always associated with him. He hogs the blankets, as always, but for once she doesn't try to take back her share. It's warm in the room and she can make do with the corner of the comforter he has left for her. She knows he likes to wrap himself in the blanket as he sleeps, and she let's him. She thinks it's the least she can do.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This chapter is quite a bit longer than the last one. I can't promise they will all be this long, but this one just had so much I wanted to put in it. Please review! I especially want to know what you think about the non-Jim/Pam characters. It's my first attempt at writing them (and really, only my second attempt at Jim/Pam). Remember, I really enjoy being judged. Also, for the most part, change in tense is on purpose. Unless it's obviously not.

**Disclaimer:** Seriously, if I owned anything, I would probably have a life and probably _not_ be sitting here writing fanfiction.

* * *

The sharp, staccato bleep of the alarm clock rouses Pam from a sleep she's only just fallen into. She stares at the ceiling, wishing the alarm would turn off on it's own, unable to summon the energy required to do it herself. Roy wakes up with a grunt and a grumble, reaching over her to do the job himself for what might be the first time ever. The annoyance on his face is evident, but quickly softens to concern when he looks at Pam.

"You okay baby? You look like crap."

_Gee. Thanks._

"No. I have a terrible headache," she lies, knowing she needs an excuse for the way she looks - and feels - hoping this will do the trick. It does.

"You going to work today?"

Pam thinks about this. The thought of seeing Jim again makes her want to throw up and she thinks she might if she has to face him today. She needs time to figure things out before she talks to him. Before she looks at him. She doesn't know if she can handle it, that look. That _Jim_ look. Part hurt, part confusion, part shell-shocked puppy dog. The look he reserves only for her, only for when she hurts or disappoints him. Like he can't believe that _she_ would be capable of such a thing.

"No, I think I'm gonna rest. You know, in case this is gonna turn into something. Nip it in the bud."

Roy accepts this and leaves the room, promising to tell Michael that she wouldn't be in today. Pam listens as he moves around the kitchen and leaves. When she's sure he's gone, she gets up and heads to the kitchen, needing coffee and fighting the headache she now actually has, pretty sure she's lied it into existence.

Part of her hopes that Roy has left her some coffee. The other part of her knows this is unlikely, realizing she's not sure if he actually knows how to make it. Making the coffee has always been her responsibility in the morning.

She doesn't find coffee, but she does find a note, propped up against the coffee maker, Roy figuring it would be the first place she looked. She reads it as the coffee begins to brew, falling into the pot drop by drop.

_P- _

_I'm going to Poor Richard's with Darryl tonight after work. Join us if you're feeling better._

_ -R_

That's it. That's all it says.

She turns the note over, hoping to find a post script, hoping to find some indication of concern or sympathy or love. Even as an afterthought, it's something. Her breath catches as she sees the hastily scribbled writing on the back.

_P.S. I booked a band. The one with that Kevin guy you work with. Scrantonicity._

Pam lays her head on the table and cries.

* * *

Jim's heart is pounding as he leaves the elevator. There's a lump in his throat and his stomach is somewhere around his knees. He'd seen Roy's truck in the parking lot and expects to see Pam her desk when he walks into the office.

Instead, he sees Roy.

Roy is just leaving the office when Jim enters it, his palms sweaty, terror evident on his face. Jim stops before Roy gets to him, certain he's about to get punched. He hasn't been in a fight since grade school, when Bobby Ridgeway accused him of cheating at basketball during recess. He'd held is own then, but Roy was a lot bigger than Bobby had been, and Jim hopes getting beaten up doesn't hurt as much as he thinks it will.

"Hey Halpert." Roy smiles as he walks past Jim.

"Wh - Oh. Uh. Hey." Jim barely gets this out before the elevator doors close on Roy.

_She didn't tell Roy._ At least, he's pretty sure she hadn't told him. He figures that if Roy knew that Jim had told his fiance that he loved her, and then kissed her, that Roy wouldn't have smiled and said hello like it was a normal day. Because it's not a normal day. Only Roy doesn't know that. And Jim can't decide what it means that Roy doesn't know. He's pretty sure it doesn't mean anything good. At least not for him.

Jim lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and makes it to his desk, eyes rooted firmly on the floor. Only when he's seated and has taken a deep, steadying breath, does he allow his eyes to flicker towards reception, expecting to see Pam.

Instead, it's Ryan who is settled into Pam's desk, a glum look on his face and a wary eye turned toward Michael, who is standing near Dwight.

Jim tenses as he listens to their conversation.

"Question. Can I head up the investigation into Pam's illness?" Dwight's eyes are alight with hope and excitement at the possibility of being chosen for the task.

"What? No! You did a terrible job with Oscar."

"Please? I've got experience. Trust me Michael, I know what I'm doing."

Jim can't take this. He knows why Pam is "sick" today. He'd almost taken the day off himself, dreading the idea of facing her rejection. Only the possibility of seeing her and trying to repair the shattered sense of normalcy in their friendship had gotten him out the door.

He can't listen to this.

"Why don't you just leave her alone? So she's sick on a Friday. People get sick." He is in no mood to deal with Dwight or Michael today.

"Yeah, and sometimes people take three day weekends." Dwight glares at Jim before turning a hopeful gaze back to Michael.

"Listen. Michael. As Assistant Regional Manager - "

"To the."

"Whatever. This is in my jurisdiction. This is why you have me around. Let me do this."

"God. Dwi - fine. Just don't screw it up this time, okay? I'm serious. Last chance."

Michael retreats into his office, leaving a delighted Dwight, an irritated Jim, and a relieved Ryan in his wake.

Jim sighs as he tries to block out the sounds of Dwight's first harassing phone call to Pam. He knows this day is going to be much more unbearable than he'd thought.

* * *

Pam is still sitting at the kitchen table, coffee forgotten, clutching the note from Roy in her hand, when the phone rings. She rushes to answer it, thinking it could be her mom. She'd neglected to call her back last night and she needs to talk to her, to have her help figure this all out. Or to have her listen as she figures it out herself.

She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh of defeat when she realizes it's Dwight. All she can do now is use the scratchy throat and sniffly nose she'd gotten from crying to get him off the phone as quickly as possible.

"Pam. Dwight Schrute here. Listen, I hear you're sick."

"Yes."

"Interesting. Then what are your symptoms?"

It's obvious from his tone that he doesn't believe she's sick, obvious that he expects to catch her in a lie. She considers hanging up on him. Instead, she rattles off anything that comes to mind and sounds halfway convincing.

"You have the chills _and_ a fever? How is that even possible?"

Crap.

"I don't know. I'm not a doctor Dwight. I'm just sick."

"Mm hm. Question. Are you contagious? Because I have a Star Wars convention this weekend and I -"

She hangs up. She can understand why Jim gets so much pleasure from torturing him. She smiles as she remembers the first trick she'd been around to watch Jim play on Dwight.

* * *

It was her first day at Dunder-Mifflin. She'd shown up early, hoping to make a good impression. Instead, she'd been greeted by Dwight's suspicious glare as she stood awkwardly near the door, waiting for Michael to get there. Dwight was the only one in the office.

"You don't work here."

She hadn't known what to say. She'd never had anyone so blatantly suspicious of her before. At least, not less than a minute after meeting her.

"I'm Pam. I'm the new receptionist."

"Oh. Fine. I'm Dwight K. Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager."

Hoping to make a friend, Pam had tried to get to know him better, even though she'd thought he was kind of weird.

"Oh, you are? Is that why you're here so early? What do you do?"

Dwight had stared at her for a good ten seconds before answering.

"I assist the regional manager and our boss, Michael Scott. He depends on me. And I'm here early to stop Jim from messing with my stuff."

She had been about to ask who Jim was and why he was messing with Dwight's stuff when Michael walked in. She'd never met him, having been interviewed by Toby while Michael was out of the office, but she'd known it was Michael because Dwight's enthusiastic and resounding, "Good morning, Michael!" had cut off the question forming on her lips. Then Michael had turned to her and she'd discovered what she had gotten herself into. She'd suddenly understood why it had been Toby who had interviewed her, and why he had chosen to do it while Michael was out of the office.

"You must be Pam. Pamalamadingdong! Pamelot!"

"Uh...Pam's fine." She remembers wondering if everyone was going to be as weird as the two people she'd already met. She'd wondered how long she was going to last at this job.

"I see you've met Dwayne, Assistant to the Regional Manager." Michael had said this with a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face, both of which she would soon know well.

"Uh...he said his name was Dwi - "

"Actually, you know what Pam? There's something I need to show you outside before we get started."

Against her better judgment, she'd followed Michael in the direction of the elevators, leaving a protesting Dwight (Dwayne?) behind. That was when she'd met Jim. He'd been standing outside the elevator, catching people before they went into the office, a stack of five dollar bills in his hand and a grin on his face.

He'd been offering people money to call Dwight Dwayne for the day and they had all been eager to accept.

She remembers being surprised at how tall Jim was and thinking how pretty his eyes were, especially with the sparkle they'd held while he outlined his plan to torture Dwight for the day.

More than wondering the reason for the prank - she'd had boring jobs before - she'd wanted to know why Dwight was the target of this joke. Jim had just stared at her before answering.

"You have _met_ Dwight, right?"

"Yeah. He seemed nice. A little...uptight maybe. But he's the Assistant Regional Manager. Won't you get in trouble?"

Michael had felt the need to speak up here.

"He's the Assistant _to the_ Regional Manager."

"But he said - "

"I know what he said. Don't listen to him. He's...insane."

More confused than ever, Pam had just looked back and forth between Michael and Jim.

Jim had fixed her with a desperate look, seeing the chances of a successful prank dwindling before his eyes.

"Look, Pam. If you don't want to call him Dwayne, then just don't call him anything. Please? Just for today? Here. I'll even give you five dollars."

She'd laughed then and shaken her head. She hadn't wanted his money, but she also hadn't wanted to ruin his fun. She didn't seem as though taking a stand against the entire office on her first day would be the best way to start things off. She'd supposed it would be all right just to avoid calling Dwight anything for the day. After all, it was just one day.

And she that's what she did. She'd avoided calling him anything the entire day. That is, until just before she'd left. He'd spent the day glancing at her, as though he thought she might be up to something, and she'd felt the need for vindication. She hadn't done anything to deserve his mistrust. So, on her way out she'd taken a detour to the kitchen. On her way back towards the front of the office, when she'd gotten close to his desk, she'd managed a small, "It was nice meeting you, Dwayne."

She'd seen Jim crack a wide smile as Dwight let out a huff of indignation while she headed for the door.

* * *

She smiles now, thinking about that day. She remembers how Jim had eaten lunch with her as he filled her in on what she could expect in the office. He hadn't gossiped - that had come later - but he'd made sure she knew what expect from Michael, Dwight, and Kevin, made sure she knew they were harmless. He'd warned her about Kelly's chattiness and Creed's inability to remember names, faces, or facts for more than a few seconds. He'd told her that Stanley was a hard worker but wouldn't stand in the way of anyone's fun, and that Phyllis was as sweet as they came. He'd made sure not to mention Toby's marriage problems or Meredith's alcohol abuse, not thinking it was their business to discuss.

She'd known that day that she had found a good friend in Jim.

Her smile fades as she thinks of the mess their friendship has become. She knows she needs to sort things out, but she's afraid of what she'll end up with. Afraid that she'll discover her life won't be what she'd thought it would. Even if she's dreaded parts of it at times, it's still her life and she's comfortable in it. What would she do if she realized it was no longer what she wanted?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, but real life and what not. Anyway, I think this is going to end up being six chapters, with the last one being a sort of epilogue-ish wrap up to everything. But don't quote me on that. I have the rest of the story almost written, so really it's just reviews (and maybe real-life) that will keep me from updating. Can't do it without those reviews. That's the law according to the rules.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

Pam struggles to remember the first time she met Roy. It's hard for her to remember this occasion in detail and this worries her. She has always believed that life's most important moments, no matter how small or mundane they seem at the time, stick with you if they are truly important, like little snippets of movies you can play in your head when you want or need to call up the memory.

But what does it say about Roy and their relationship if she can't remember the day they met?

She can remember some of it. She holds on to these snatches of memory like a life vest that keeps her from drowning. She's not sure what she's drowning in or when it started, only that she is and she needs to keep afloat. For some reason she believes that remembering the day she met Roy is a vital part of that.

She knows they met at school. She remembers she'd been with a group of friends when he had come over, though she can't remember why he'd approached them or what they had been doing. She knows she had been taken in by his rosy cheeks and dimples, loving the effect his smile had on his face. She remembers that her friends had teased her after he'd left, saying he had stared at her the whole time. She's not sure if she spoke to him that day, but she remembers telling her friends that he seemed nice.

Truth be told, she's not even sure how they ended up together. She thinks he must have found his way into her group of friends somehow. In high school she had been friends with all kinds of kids, her group defying explanation. They weren't the jocks or the brains or the artists, though they included those kids. Instead, they were a mixture of anything and everything, a collage of personalities. She thinks this is how she and Roy had gotten to know each other. Or, at least, that it had opened the door to a date or some sort of relationship. She thinks that they had probably just sort of...happened, that this is what must have led to their first official date. The date is something she does remember. In unfortunate detail.

* * *

Roy had suggested they go to a hockey game and she had said yes, though she's still not sure why. She'd always disliked hockey. She figures she must have known he liked it and was willing to give it another chance.

He'd picked her up at her house, she remembers, about fifteen minutes late. He apologized, though, sounding sincerely sorry, so she hadn't counted it against him.

"I had to wait for my brother to get home."

Well, that was understandable.

"Oh. That's okay. Did you need him to bring back the car?"

"No."

_Oh. _

"He's coming with us. I hope you don't mind. It's just, he had three tickets and his girlfriend can't come, so he said I could bring someone."

She remembers her jaw dropping slightly before she could stop herself. She'd quickly arranged her features into something resembling understanding and tolerance - a face she would later use often on Michael.

"Oh. Okay."

They'd left and gotten in the car - Roy and his brother in the front, Pam alone in the back, the stereo thumping in her ears. She remembers being grateful for that, thinking that the stereo meant she didn't have to try to make awkward conversation with Roy's brother while trying to seem interested in what Roy was saying. It felt easier just to let them talk while she tried not to get a headache from the blaring music.

They'd gotten to the game early and had settled into their seats, Roy in the middle and Pam on the aisle. Pam and Roy had a chance to talk then, his brother having gone to get food for all of them. They'd chatted easily, covering the basics of family and school. She'd told him how much she enjoyed her art classes and was only slightly put-off when he'd said he didn't "get it." She'd admitted, then, to not "getting" hockey, thinking it would give them something to talk about because, if nothing else, they could each explain their passions.

Instead, she'd been treated to a forty-five minute lecture about the rules of the game, the stats of various important players, and expectations for the rest of the season. Roy's brother, who had returned just in time for her confession, laden with more soda that Pam could ever drink, hadn't hesitated to throw in his two cents, making it nearly impossible for Pam to get in a word. Though she wouldn't have known what to say even if she had the chance, not knowing in the slightest what they were talking about. Then they had turned their attention to the game, well underway by this point. The boys spent the rest of the game yelling at the refs when things weren't going their way and high-fiving when they were. Bored, and with little enthusiasm for a game she still didn't understand and no longer wanted to, Pam had turned her attention to her drink, guzzling the entire thing without realizing it.

She remembers having to go to the bathroom but trying to wait, not wanting to deal with the long lines. By the time only a few minutes remained on the clock, it had become evident that waiting would no longer be an option, so she'd excused herself, hoping to be quick. The line had moved slowly and Pam had heard the buzzer signaling the end of the game just before her turn had come.

It had taken her a while to remember where their seats were and by the time she'd found them almost everyone else was gone, including Roy and his brother. She'd waited there, thinking they would head back to the seats, assuming they had gone to the bathroom as well. They'd had just as much soda as she had. Right?

After the first five minutes Pam considered the idea that their line had been unusually long for a men's room.

After ten minutes she wondered if they'd gotten lost.

At the fifteen minute mark Pam decided that they were looking for her by the restrooms or at the front. She'd headed out of the bleachers and began wandering the nearly empty arena. After a few minutes she had given up trying to find them, deciding it was best to stay in one place so they could find her.

She'd stood at the entrance for ten minutes, until Roy had come towards her from the direction of the parking garage, embarrassment on his face, a deep red climbing up his neck and over his pale skin.

He'd mumbled something about, "Sorry" and, "...almost home..." before Pam had finally understood what happened.

They'd left her. They'd forgotten about her and gone home. She remembers thinking that it was no wonder, considering she'd barely said a word all night. Not knowing what to say to that, Pam had just nodded and followed him to the car, her mind reeling.

They'd taken her straight home then, music once again blaring in her ear, Roy sitting up front and Pam alone in the back. When they'd pulled up in front of her house, Roy had jumped out of the car and walked her to the door.

"I had fun tonight," he'd said, still looking slightly embarrassed.

Not wanting to be rude or to embarrass him further, Pam had managed a small, tight smile and a muttered, "Yeah."

Roy's brother had honked then, and Roy's expression had gone from one of embarrassment to one of nervous anticipation. Before she'd known what was happening, Roy had leaned in and kissed Pam, a nervous and dry-lipped kiss that was so startling and unremarkable that it was over before Pam had even thought to respond. He'd smiled, whispered goodbye and, after another, louder honk from his brother, had taken off.

* * *

Pam hadn't expected to hear from him again. She'd tried to imagine a worse first date and had a hard time coming up with anything that could rival the one she had shared with Roy. She'd been surprised when Roy had cornered her by her locker and asked her out again a few days later. Tempted to say no but admiring the courage she'd imagined it took to approach her again, she'd agreed. They'd eventually gotten better at dating and he'd gotten better at remembering her. For the most part.

They'd gotten the hang of the kissing thing, too, Pam thinks. She cringes now, thinking again of the first kiss she'd shared with Roy. It had been awkward. Dry-lipped. Memorable only because of how bad and unexpected it had been. After that Pam had thought that was how all first kisses were because, truth be told, she'd had nothing to compare it to.

Until Jim.

She blushes now, thinking of the first kiss she had shared with Jim. Though she'd been drunk at the time, she remembers it clearly. It's one of the few moments of that night she does remember.

* * *

She and Roy had fought - something about him not asking what she wanted. They were at the Dundies and he'd wanted to leave. She hadn't. So he'd left her there and she'd responded by taking the opportunity to get plastered. She'd started with stealing sips from Jim's beer and not stopped until it became hard to sit in her chair, let alone stand or walk. She knows she'd been excited because she'd gotten a different award than she'd expected. Three consecutive awards for longest engagement hadn't left much hope for something new. But she'd gotten something new, something less depressing. And she'd been excited. She knows she made a speech, though the details are fuzzy. When she'd looked out at her co-workers, her eyes had landed on Jim. He'd been hard to miss, standing there, clapping with a huge grin on his face. It was her favorite grin, the one that reached his eyes and showed all of his teeth. The grin she secretly liked to think her reserved for her. The grin he secretly _did_ reserve for her.

It's this portion of the night that she has no doubts about. She knows exactly what happened, though she pretends she doesn't. She remembers seeing him across the room, grinning that grin, and _knowing_ that he'd done something to make her new award possible. She'd walked towards him and he'd remained standing, pulling her chair out for her. She'd known halfway there that she was going to hug him, something they'd never really done before. She had briefly thought it might be awkward, but she was happy and it was because of him, so she'd decided to go for it. Plus, she'd figured, she was drunk, so if she had to blame it on something, she could blame it on that. Besides, friends hugged friends. Right?

She'd just planned on hugging him, but when she'd gotten closer, she'd seen an opportunity. His lips had looked so soft and inviting and his eyes had been shining. More than ever before she'd wanted to know what it was she was missing. She'd thought that it was the perfect chance to find out, perhaps the last one she would ever have.

So she'd done it.

Like her first kiss with Roy, it had been unexpected and brief, but that's where the comparison ends. Jim had been surprised, of course, but had pulled it together in time to kiss her back before it ended. His lips had been every bit as soft as they'd looked. The kiss had been warm. Exciting. Perfect. It had only lasted a moment but, for that moment, time had seemed to stand still.

Embarrassed, Pam had just sat back down as if nothing had happened and Jim had done the same. As if everything was normal. As if it was something they had done every single day.

The rest of the night had passed in a blur and no one, surprisingly, had mentioned what happened, and they still haven't. The only other moment that stuck out from that night happened right before she'd gotten in Angela's car to go home. Jim had been standing with her and she'd thought about how considerate he always was towards her, how he always seemed to make sure she was okay and happy. She'd thought back to the kiss and wondered what it would be like is she were with Jim, if it were his engagement ring she wore instead of Roy's.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the strange giddiness she still felt from the awards. Maybe it was just because he was Jim. She's still not sure why, but she'd decided to ask him. She'd had a suspicion that if it were Jim's ring she was wearing that it would have been accompanied by a wedding band in a lot less than three years. She she'd decided to ask him if her suspicions were correct.

_If we were engaged, would you wait three years to set the date?_

And she'd thought he might answer. She'd known that if he did, he would answer honestly.

The words had been on the tip of her tongue, fighting for escape when she remembered the cameras that had been filming all night, and Angela, waiting to take her home, probably ready with a lecture for Pam about adultery and inappropriate behavior.

So she hadn't asked, though she'd desperately wanted to.

* * *

Now, sitting in her kitchen reliving her first - and second - kiss with Jim, she can't help but wonder again what it _would_ be like if she were with Jim and not Roy.

Or, just not with Roy.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is the fourth chapter (obviously). I am just about finished with the last chapter, so I know there will be six, but I think the last chapter is going to be a bit longer than I thought. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, you guys are the best! As always, please let me know what you think of this chapter. Reviews are a great incentivizer, as Michael would say. Gotta have those reviews.

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own it. Just playing with it because I'm bored.

* * *

Pam wonders when things became so complicated, when her life stopped making sense. When did she start questioning a life with Roy? When did thoughts of a life with Jim edge their way into the corners of her imagination?

She tells herself it was last night. First the confession and then the kiss. It was to much for her to take. Too much to understand all at once.

But if she's honest with herself, those doubts and thoughts have been there longer than that. There were times, she knows, when she would look at Jim and know that he _gets_ her. Know that he truly wants her to be happy. And she remembers times when there would be thoughts. Forbidden, unthinkable thoughts. Thoughts of how _different_ things would be if she were with Jim.

Like the time Jan tried to convince her to look into that internship in New York.

Or the times Roy talked her out of going out for end of the week drinks even though she really wanted to go.

Or when Roy left her at the Dundies.

Or that time on the Booze Cruise when Roy chose to cheer on Darryl's snorkel shot rather than be somewhere with her, quiet and alone.

Instead, Jim had gone with her. He'd left the party, left his girlfriend to be with her.

If she's honest with herself, really honest, she thinks that might have been the first time real, vivid and uncensored, thoughts of her and Jim, together, crept their way into her heart. There had been brief, fleeting thoughts before, but this was the first time she had let herself think them. In the past she had felt guilty about them and stopped them from forming when they'd just been edges of thoughts, almost-thoughts, as she liked to call them. The only other time she had let a thought fully form and almost escape the safety of the back of her mind had been at the Dundies, when they were standing outside getting ready to leave. That time she had almost voiced her thought, sure he could read it on her face, anyway. It was something she had never come close to again.

Until that night on Lake Wallenpaupack. They'd been standing outside, the chilly air blowing an icy breeze across their faces. She'd almost said something about Roy. About how their relationship. About how she wasn't sure, sometimes, why they were together or what they had in common. Something she told herself she didn't mean.

Instead, she'd joked with him about him dating a cheerleader, knowing he'd been surprised and not exactly thrilled at Katy's revelation.

And then he'd looked at her with that look. That look that says he has something he wants to say but can't find the right words. Can't find words that are good enough.

And she'd known what he was thinking. That's how it's always been with them. A look, a shrug, a smirk. That's all they really need.

Her heart had been pounding as she'd gazed up at him, part of her dreading the moment he finally found the words, part of her hoping he would just come out and say it.

But the first part had won out. Pam loved their friendship. It was what got her through the day, what kept her from going insane. What kept her from smacking someone.

And she'd known that what he was thinking, what he was about to say, would change their friendship forever. And she wasn't sure if she could handle that. So she'd stopped him. Made up some excuse and gone inside. Told herself it was all in her head.

But it hadn't been and now things have changed anyway. He loves her and now she knows it. _Really_ knows it. And she can't un-know it. She's not sure if she wants to.

* * *

Dwight is on a mission. Michael has entrusted him with the investigation and he's determined to get to the bottom of the situation.

He just needs to gather a little information from Roy before he heads to her house. He wants to make sure she really isn't contagious. He still can't believe she hung up on him. _Him._ The Assistant Regional Manager.

Okay. Assistant to the Regional Manager. But still. He is Michael's right-hand man. His second in command. Gilligan to his Skipper. Riker to his Picard. Her hanging up on him was not only a serious malfeasance in itself, it also proved he had cause to be suspicious. He knows another phone call will be futile.

She's probably screening her calls.

He heads down to the warehouse, seeking out Roy. If anyone would know, it would be him. Maybe Jim, since they're such good friends. But Jim doesn't seem cooperative today. He's been staring at his computer all day like he hates it. Like it's...well..._him_.

But Roy will do. Easier to read, anyway. It will be easier to tell if he's lying.

Finding Roy, Dwight introduces himself and consults his clipboard, searching for an appropriate question to start out with.

"Roy. Dwight Schrute." He holds out his hand. Roy, looking slightly irritated stares at him, ignoring his outstretched hand.

"I know who you are, Dwight."

Ignoring Roy's apparent problem with authority, Dwight begins his interrogation.

"Question. Pam is your fiancee, correct? You two live together?"

Roy, slightly more irritated, folds his arms across his chest.

"What is this about, Schrute?"

Undeterred, Dwight takes this as confirmation.

"Pam claims she is 'sick' today. I'm just curious what her 'symptoms' are."

Dwight's use of air quotes on the words 'sick' and 'symptoms' make Roy angry. Now, he is blatantly glaring at Dwight.

"Are you calling Pam a liar?"

Dwight, shocked at being seen through so easily, tries to recover.

"Not necessarily. We'll see. Question. Was there anything suspicious about her illness? Did it seem fake? Did it seem as though she might want to be alone in the house?"

Roy's eyes narrow at Dwight's questions and suggestions. He thinks he can see where this is going, but he wants to see if the little weasel will actually go there.

"Why would she want to be alone in the house?"

"Maybe she has a friend she's hiding from you. Maybe she's seeing someone else. That's not the point. Question. Did you see an illness coming on? Or was this a sudden attack?"

Roy can hardly believe what he's hearing. He thinks that if it wouldn't get him fired, he would knock this guy on his ass right here. He thinks he might do it anyway.

"No. I'm not doing this."

Dwight is taken aback at Roy's lack of respect and cooperation. But he has a job to do and he's not about to give up so easily.

"Roy. Please. This is serious. I am investigating a possibly fraudulent claim of illness by your fiancee. There could be severe repercussions. I suggest you cooperate, okay? Now - "

Roy has had enough.

"And I suggest you get out of here before I kick your ass!"

Slightly nervous now, Dwight tries to intimidate Roy.

"Look, Roy. You might want to be careful. I'm very skilled in the martial arts of - "

"Get the hell out of here, man!"

Darryl, hearing the disturbance and seeing that nerdy pain in the ass from upstairs harassing Roy, heads over to see what's going on.

"Hey, man. You causing a disturbance in my warehouse?" Darryl assumes the same arms-crossed position as Roy and pulls himself up to his full height.

Dwight is more than slightly nervous now. He's never had to actually _use_ his training, other than that one time with Michael, and he thinks the two of them, together, might be able to do some damage. He'd still win, of course, there's no doubt about that. It's just a question of how much pain he would be in when he does.

He gives a nervous laugh and a forced smile.

"Not causing a disturbance. I'm just conducting an investigation. It doesn't concern you. We're almost done here."

Roy and Darryl each take a step closer, Darryl narrowing his eyes as he does. He's still not sure what's going on - he'd heard only part of the conversation - but he doesn't like this guy and he really doesn't like his tone. Plus, they need to get back to work.

"You better get out of my warehouse."

Dwight, sensing he might actually get punched soon, decides he has enough information.

"You know what? I think I'm about done here. I should head back upstairs now."

Turning abruptly on his heel, he does his very best not to run to the stairs. He heads back up to the office to grab his coat before heading out to Pam's.

* * *

It's nearly lunchtime and Jim has done nothing but stare at his computer all morning. The only thing he can concentrate on is berating himself for different actions and non-actions regarding the "P situation," as Michael had called it. Jim could smack himself for the torture he's put himself through, the torture he won't allow himself to consciously admit he hopes Pam is going through now. He's been going over in his mind different chances, different moments he's had to tell Pam how he's felt about her. Moments that occurred before the date of her wedding was set. Before that date was just a few weeks away. Before the invitations had gone out, the bridesmaids selected, the dress purchased. Before Australia was planned. Before Stamford.

There have been moments, hundreds of moments, when he could have said something. There were a dozen times when he almost did.

Like the time she'd kissed him at the Dundies. He had almost said something then, but decided against it because he had felt it was something he wanted her to be sober for.

But that wasn't the only time he'd come close. There had been many times.

For instance, when she'd sat down on his bed at the barbecue he'd held at his house.

When they'd joked about whether Pam would be going to the lake with Roy or the mall with him the weekend after the basketball game Michael had set up.

The night he'd made her dinner and they'd eaten on the roof. Their "first date."

When she'd suggested he take the job in Maryland. Though, that time, he thinks, was more about hurting her by way of explanation for his behavior after her suggestion. He'd thought it would make her feel careless and stupid and make him, somehow, feel better. But then he'd thought about it and he knew that making her feel stupid and careless would make him feel so much worse. Because he had vowed never to be the reason she felt stupid.

There a few times, too, when he had come within a breath of telling her how he really felt.

Like on the Booze Cruise, when they'd been standing on the deck. But she'd gone inside before he could find the words. Then everything had changed. His next attempt that night had been interrupted by a drunken announcement from Roy.

He'd also come close the day he was jinxed into silence. She'd been joking with him, teasing him for not being able to talk. She'd told him it seemed like he wanted to tell her something but couldn't, for some reason. She'd said that he could tell her anything.

He remembers looking at her, thinking that she had no idea how close she was to the truth. He'd tried, then, to tell her. He'd hoped his look would be enough, as it often was. Or that, somehow, she would just _know_. As if he could tell her telepathically if not in actual words. And there had been a moment when he thought she might have figured it out, might have guessed that there _was_ something important he'd been wanting to tell her. He thought she might have discovered his secret.

But then their break had ended and she'd gone back to her desk, glancing at him every now and then, but never saying a word about what she might now know.

One time he actually did tell her.

That is, until he took it back.

It was Christmas, the time to tell people how you feel. He'd gotten Pam in the Secret Santa for the first time ever, and he'd seen his chance. He'd put it in the card. The card he'd then watch go around the office before it was even opened. At each stop, he'd had a gut-clenching terror that the new possessor would open the card and read what he had written inside. First it went to Meredith. Then to Oscar. Then to Dwight. Of all people, it had ended up with Dwight. He'd wanted to kill Michael then. And Dwight, just for good measure. Instead, he'd tried trading with Dwight, bargaining with him, and, finally, bribing him, but to no avail.

Pam had gotten the tea pot back in the end, though, a move that caused him to stare at her in amazement as his heart filled with even more love for her.

But then she'd mentioned Roy and a flash of uneasiness had coursed through him. It was ridiculous that he should say that to her, that he should let her know how he felt. Here, in the middle of the office. With Roy wandering around, full of cheap vodka. What if she opened the card in the middle of the party?

So he'd stolen it back, stuck it in the locked bottom drawer of his desk, kept it for _someday_.

He thinks of it now, tucked into his desk drawer. He thinks of the message he'd written inside. Simple. Short. Honest.

_Pam, _

_I think you're perfect. _

_Love, _

_Jim_

As Jim sits there, contemplating the short message and all that it implies, Dwight comes back into the office, muttering something about Pam's illness and Roy being uncooperative. He grabs his coat and rushes out the door. As Jim watches him go, he knows what he has to do.

He has to see her. They have to work this out.

He grabs the card out of his desk drawer and heads out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine.

* * *

Pam is sitting on the couch, surrounded by artifacts from a life she doesn't remember living. Lately, she's been feeling as though she's been floating through life, letting it happen as it may, taking no active part in it. It's almost as if she's been dreaming, unable to really participate, not remembering much of the previous day when she wakes up the next morning. Only small moments, insignificant instances seem to make it through the haze that has become her life and carry on day after day in her memory. Sometimes it's a joke she remembers, or a comment. Sometimes just a feeling. She clings to those moments, beacons of light through the darkness of her life.

She's been chalking it up to stress. She's been planning a wedding, one that is fast approaching, and that keeps a person busy. She's had so much going on lately that she hasn't had much time to herself, time enough to even really _think_. So now it's like she's been living her life in a fog and she can't get out of it. It surrounds her, suffocates her, until she can't stand it.

But, deep down, she knows she's been feeling this way a long time. Since before the wedding planning and the keeping busy and the not thinking. Long before. When she really allows herself to think about it, without pushing away the thoughts she knows she shouldn't have, she realizes it's been going on for years. Since the day she realized what her life was, what it would likely always be.

_"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam." A hundred times a day. _

_Friday nights at Poor Richard's with Roy's buddies. _

_Weekends at the lake during which all she does is watch as Roy and his brother race the waverunners. _

_Ski trips where she doesn't ski, because she doesn't _really _like it. _

That was the day she realized she was living the life Roy wanted, a life Roy enjoyed. Not the one she wanted for herself, the one she had spent so many hours dreaming up. Not one in which she enjoyed herself very much.

But it's okay, she tells herself. Because she loves Roy and she wants him to be happy. And if Roy is happy she can be happy with him.

Can't she?

But that was what she thought before. Before Jim kissed her. Before she knew there could _be_ another way.

Ever since the kiss, all Pam can think about is the life _she _wants. The life that will make _her_ happy. Really happy, not just happy for someone else.

A life in which days are spent drawing and nights are spent in a bedroom with a terrace filled with flowers.

She shudders when she thinks of all that it would take to get her to that point. A change in jobs. A change in location. _A change in Roy_?

No. That wasn't likely to happen. She remembers him once saying that he loved his life, that he wouldn't change a thing.

_A change in fiance_?

She's afraid of this thought. She dislikes change, likes knowing what to expect. The thought of moving or finding a new job makes her heart pound. The thought of being alone almost makes it stop. Her life is comfortable. Predictable. She knows just how each day is going to be.

Then again, _she knows just how each day is going to be_.

She tries to remember a time when change didn't scare her so much. A time when she found it exciting, the possibilities of the unknown thrilling her right down to her toes.

Tears begin pricking at her eyes when she realizes that the girl who once found such excitement in new chances and experiences has long ago faded away, has become a woman who just sits by and lets life happen, eager to please everyone but herself.

* * *

Dwight is almost to the bottom of the situation. Pam is not sick and he knows it. This is it. He can feel it. He's about to bust her. He rings her doorbell, feeling slightly giddy. He can just imagine how thrilled Michael will be once he has exposed her for the fraud that she is.

Oh, he thinks Pam is a lovely girl, he really does. But he has a job to do, and it is highly inappropriate and unprofessional to feign illness just to get a three day weekend. He will not have it on his watch. Not when Michael is counting on him.

When Pam answers the door, he is a little taken aback. She looks so..._contagious_. He thinks he sees her roll her eyes when she finds him on her doorstep, but decides it was more likely the effect of the bright afternoon sun hitting her square in the eyes.

"What do you want, Dwight?"

"Hello, Pam. I'm here to ask you a few additional questions about your absence today. Since you hung up on me when I called, I couldn't be sure you wouldn't do it again. I was forced to come here and interview you in person. May I come in?"

"No."

Dwight is a little startled at her refusal to let him in her house, and the harsh tone with which it was delivered. However, it raises his suspicions even higher, further convincing him she may be hiding a guest in her house.

"Why not? Is there something you don't want me to see? Maybe you have some friends over?"

"No. I just don't want you in my house. I...uh...wouldn't want you to get sick." Sensing it's probably pointless to explain to him that she doesn't want him in her house - or _anyone_, really - that she just wants to be alone, Pam figures it might be worth a shot to convince him her house is a hotbed for germ activity.

"My germs are everywhere in there."

"I'm a Schrute. Schrutes don't get sick." Dwight begins to gently force his way in when Pam fakes a hacking, phlegmy and somewhat ridiculous sounding cough.

"Why risk it?"

Dwight takes a step back. She does have a point. He remembers catching a cold from Jim a few years back - a solitary incident, a singular malfunction of his perfect immune system - and thinks that the symptoms Pam is displaying match the symptoms of his illness perfectly. The runny nose, the red, watery eyes, the headache. Dwight is not eager to relive that experience. Not when he has to sit two feet from Jim all day. He takes another step back.

"I won't get sick," Dwight insists, a little less sure of himself.

"Look, Dwight, are you almost done? I need to get back to bed."

Dwight, sensing it's pointless to continue to press the matter of going inside, and almost believing he might actually contract an illness from doing so, decides to finish his questioning and leave as soon as possible. No reason to chance it.

"Just a few more questions." Just to be sure.

"Okay. First question. What color is your mucous?"

Startled and slightly disgusted at the question, Pam just looks at him for a second.

"I am not answering that question, Dwight."

"Interesting. Okay. Question. On the phone you claimed to have a headache. What kind of headache do you have?"

Pam is confused and irritated and now actually _does_ have a headache. One she is convinced will leave as soon as Dwight does.

"What? The kind that hurts."

"I know it hurts ,Pam. Where does it hurt?"

"In my head."

"Thank you. Now. Are you dehydrated at all? Suffering from the shakes? Upset stomach?"

Wanting to get rid of him _now_, Pam puts on the most miserable face she can.

"Yes, all of it. In fact, I think I'm going to be sick right now."

Dwight nods his head in approval.

"Okay. Good. Last question. What color did you say your mucous was?"

Pam thinks she has put up with Dwight - nicely - long enough.

"Good bye, Dwight."

She closes the door in his face. She knows she should have expected Dwight to show up at her house, should have been prepared with answers and maybe a few pills or tissues for effect. But who can ever really be fully prepared for Dwight?

Pam is on her way to take a shower, hoping that cleansing her body will help cleanse her mind, when the doorbell rings again. Thinking it's Dwight, back to ask more ridiculous questions, she flings the door open, no longer just irritated but angry, as well.

"I'm not going to tell you about my mucous!"

It's not until the words have left her mouth that Pam realizes it's not Dwight at the door, but Jim.

* * *

When Pam throws the door open and begins to yell, Jim thinks it might have been a worse idea to come here than he'd thought. He'd spent the entire trip over trying to convince himself it wouldn't end in disaster, that he wouldn't let it. He'd tried to prepare himself for the moment when she opened the door, the moment he saw Pam for the first time after what he had said, what he had done. Imagining a hundred different scenarios, he'd thought he was prepared for anything.

When she opened the door, he was prepared to ask her how she was, to ask her if she was okay. He was prepared to beg her to let things go back to normal, to ask her to forget what happened. He was prepared to ask her if it really was Dwight he had just seen drive past him on the street.

He was not, however, prepared for _that_.

When she realizes it's Jim at the door and not Dwight, Pam feels the warm blush of embarrassment crawl up her neck and over her cheeks. She really never imagined she might say something like that to Jim, especially so out of context. She is conscious for a moment of how she must look to him, with her hair tossed messily in to a scrunchy, wearing her ancient flannel pajamas with Smurfs running across them, day-old make up smeared on tear-stained cheeks, screaming about mucous. She hadn't even brushed her teeth.

But the moment passes and she becomes angry. Not because he's Jim and he's seeing her like this, but because he's Jim and he's the reason she's like this. And she's glad that he can see physical proof of what he's done to her.

"Jim - "

"I'm sorry."

_What_? She's not sure what she was going to say. _Go away_? _I hate you_? Though she's glad he's interrupted her, she is not expecting him to apologize.

He hadn't meant to say it. No where, in any of his imagined scenarios, did he apologize for telling her the truth. But he'd taken one look at her, tear-stained, angry, hurt, and felt sorry that he had done that to her. Because, after all he's seen her go through with Roy, all the times she was hurt or upset because of something Roy did or said, he's always promised himself that he would never be the reason she was upset, never cause hurt or angry tears to run down her cheeks. So he'd felt sorry and he'd said so.

"I'm sorry."

When she responds to his unexpected apology, her voice is tired, full of emotion but strangely devoid of feeling at the same time.

"Sorry for what? Sorry you told me you love me? Sorry you kissed me?"

Though she's angry at him, and wants him to know it, a small part of her thinks that if he answers that he _was_ sorry he told her he loved her, if he _was_ sorry he had kissed her, her heart might break.

"I'm sorry I upset you."

She's not sure why, but this makes her angry. She can tell he's really, genuinely sorry, but she doesn't care. She doesn't want him to apologize. She doesn't want him to make himself feel better by apologizing, by trying to make _her _feel better.

Not yet. Not until he knows _exactly_ what he's put her through.

"You're sorry you upset me? That's what you call it? Upset? How _dare_ you?"

She's suddenly so angry she's shaking. Usually she avoids confrontation, allowing people to believe everything is fine rather than argue. If someone really crosses the line, she usually just makes a comment, gives a look, and walks away. But this is Jim and she knows avoidance won't work with him. He knows her better than some people she's known her whole life. It's true that they rarely spend time together outside the office, but when you spend all day, every day, ten feet from someone you consider to be your best friend, especially in the kind of environment in which they work, you learn a lot about each other. She knows avoidance won't work. So, very uncharacteristically of her, she decides to tell him how she really feels. After all, he did it to her.

"How _dare_ you? You're sorry you _upset_ me? You have me rethinking my entire life!"

"Pam, I never wanted to do that. I just needed you to know how I felt." He's so mad at himself, so frustrated with how this is going, so sorry that he's done this to her, to _Pam_, that he thinks he may cry again.

"You needed me to know how you felt? Jim, I was getting married. I was _happy_."

Something about the word 'happy' triggers a reaction in Jim and he is suddenly not just mad, but _really_ mad. And not at himself. At her. For believing she was satisfied with her life before his confession. For convincing herself that this is the life she wants, when they both know that's not true.

"Happy? You call that _happy_? Pam, you hate your job. You can't talk to your fiance about your feelings. All I ever hear you complain about is work and Roy. Where is the happy?"

"It's my life, Jim. And it was fine."

"You want to settle for fine? Pam, you deserve so much more."

Exhausted, defeated, all anger suddenly gone, all Pam can do look at him. He's still standing in the doorway, the bright sun casting a shadow on his face as it illuminates him from behind.

And she knows he's right. She hasn't been happy with her life, not for a long time. She thinks she may have been, once, but that's gone now. She doesn't know when things changed, but she knows it was a long time ago. Long enough for her to convince herself that happiness is merely the absence of sorrow.

She leaves him standing there, looking as though he could cry and scream at the same time, heads to the couch, sinking into the well-worn cushions.

Tentatively, Jim follows Pam into the living room. He's not sure if that's what she intended, but he'd come here to fix their friendship and all he's done so far is make things worse. He considers taking a seat next to her on the couch, but opts for an old armchair instead. He thinks it might be safer that way. Unsure of what to do or say, he sits in silence, studying Pam's downcast eyes, searching for a clue as to what she might be thinking.

Staring at the coffee table without really seeing it, Pam knows that Jim has followed her without looking to see if he has. It's always been that way with them. She's always been able to feel his presence in a room, even before she sees or hears him.

All she can think is _why_? Why did he have to say anything? Why now, when her wedding is just weeks away? Why not sooner?

So she asks him. Emotionless, without looking up.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Why wait until last night?"

He considers telling her he hadn't meant to tell her last night, considers telling her about the transfer. The transfer he is no longer sure he will be taking.

Instead, he tells her the truth, that he's tried to, but stopped himself every time. That he's thought about it over and over. That he wrote it in the Christmas card he later stole back and kept tucked in his locked bottom drawer. In the drawer where he keeps everything that reminds him of her.

Like hot sauce packets.

Like little yellow pencils.

Like bronze medals made of yogurt lids and paper clips.

Then he pulls the card out of his back pocket and, finally, gives it to her. She opens it, reads the message written inside, and looks a little sad.

"Why did you have to tell me?"

He knows what she's really asking. _Why did you have to change everything? Why did you change our friendship?_

And although he knows she knows, although they are the very words that started this mess, he tells her again.

"Because I love you. I just...love you." He shrugs and shakes his head a little as he says this.

"I just needed you to know. Before..." He trails off, not able to finish the sentence, not able to bring up the wedding.

"You're my best friend. You're supposed to tell your best friend everything."

A sad smile crosses Pam's lips. _Best friend_. Is that still possible? After all this? She's not sure. She hopes so. She hopes that, what ever happens, they can still be Jim and Pam. She knows that she's really going to be needing her best friend.

"Can we still do that? Can we still be us?"

They both know what she means. They know that they are what makes the work day bearable for each other, that their friendship is special, and that they don't want to lose it.

He tells her that they can try. She tells him that she needs time. That she doesn't know what she's going to do. Jim understands this and knows he has to give her all the time she needs. He knows he has to stand by her whatever she decides. He has to because he doesn't know what else to do.

He leaves, both of them a little less worried about their friendship, a little more worried about the future.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! There's just one more left, and that should be up sometime this week. Thanks to everyone who's already reviewed, and don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed! You make me grin like a monkey on crack. This is the last chapter. :( It's meant as sort of an epilogue, just to wrap everything up nice and pretty.

Disclaimer: They. Aren't. Mine.

* * *

She'd said she needed time. She was not kidding.

Time. Lots and lots of time.

And time she got. Jim knew better than to push her. He knew that change was not something that came easily to Pam. It's why she'd stayed at Dunder-Mifflin for so long, despite a great desire and even greater talent that would have made it easy to escape.

It's why she was reluctant to change her relationship with Jim, even after she had ended things with Roy.

It's why it had taken her so long to end things with Roy. She'd started slow, unsure of whether breaking up with Roy was really what she wanted. Maybe she just needed a change, something small. After Jim left her house that day, she spent the rest of the afternoon thinking about her life, how things had ended up the way they had, so far from the dreams she'd grown up believing would become her reality. She knew that if she kept meandering down the path she was on, she would become unrecognizable to the girl she had been. This was the motivating factor in her decision to speak to Roy. She'd known that she had been happy, really happy, once, that that girl had known what she wanted and had the ability to obtain it. She wanted that back.

She decided to speak to Roy the following morning. She'd have preferred to do it that very day, but he had been at the bar with Darryl and the rest of the warehouse guys. Drunk Roy was not exactly a great conversationalist. If it was hard to talk to Roy when he was sober, drunk Roy was even worse.

So she'd waited until he woke up the next morning, waited until he'd had his coffee, waited until he'd showered and dressed. She waited until she could no longer stand it. He'd been sitting on the couch watching golf, of all things, when she sat across from him, in the very chair Jim had folded his long frame into the day before. She took comfort from the memory of him sitting there the previous day, confident in her ability to do something more. She drew strength from the fact that someone was so whole-heartedly convinced that she had the ability to change her life, had the ability to make herself happy.

She waited until a commercial came on and looked Roy square in the eye, asking him to turn the television off, telling him they needed to talk. He looked at her, the protest ready on his lips, silenced only by the grave expression on her face.

She saw him pale and knew what he was thinking.

"I'm not pregnant," she said quickly, flatly. The relief on his face was so quick to appear, so great, that her heart broke a little. To think that the idea of having a baby with her gave him that pale, anxious, nauseated look was almost too much to take.

She had taken a deep breath and forced herself to continue.

"Roy, I'm not happy."

It was the first time she had ever said this to him - to _anyone_, really - and she was afraid to look at him, afraid to see the expression on his face when he finally figured out what she was trying to say.

She looked up, exasperated, when she heard his response.

"Oh, you want to change the channel? This is almost over."

She had been so caught up in what she was about to say, what she was about to do, that she hadn't realized the television was still on. She sighed a deep sigh and, in a move so unlike her, grabbed the remote and turned the television off herself.

"No, Roy, you don't understand. I'm not happy with this." She gestured back and forth between them, willing him to understand, to make it just the tiniest bit easier for her.

She explained to him that she was unhappy with her life, that she wanted more. She told him that she had spent the last two days thinking about what she wanted out of her life, wondering when she had fallen into the life she was currently living, and left her aspirations behind. She left out the parts about Jim kissing her, visiting her. She'd wanted to spare him the hurt that would surely accompany the idea that another man had made her doubt him and the life they were creating together.

Because it wasn't about Jim. Not really. It was true that he was the one who had started it, yes, but it was really more that he had helped her see something she should have been seeing all along. She knew she'd been unhappy for a while, that she would have needed to change things sooner or later. In a way, Pam was grateful to Jim because she knew it was better to question things now, rather than in another ten years when she was married, possibly with children to think about.

This thought, this idea that it was better to do this, to realize this, now than ten years from now helped Pam. It made the conversation easier for her, made it bearable. But when she shared it with Roy, it only made him angry. He hated to think that she might one day consider their marriage a mistake.

Pam calmed him down, put him at ease, by explaining that she didn't want to break up, that she just needed time to figure out what she wanted out of her life before they both became even _more_ committed, if that was even possible. She told him that she wanted to postpone the wedding.

That was when he realized just how much trouble their relationship was in. And it scared him and Pam could see that. For the first time in a long time, she was reminded that Roy really did care for her, much more than everyone, including her, gave him credit for.

They both knew they were each partially responsible for what was happening - him for not supporting her dreams, her for not demanding of herself that she follow them.

So they postponed the wedding and Roy vowed to try harder to make her happy, which he did, for a while.

* * *

When all was said and done, Pam and Roy ended things much as they began. In the way they had just sort of fallen together, they just sort of fell apart. After the wedding was postponed Pam realized she had never lived alone, never really learned to rely on herself. She had thought that may have been part of the problem, part of why she was unhappy. She had never really learned to make herself happy. It was about six weeks after the postponement and three weeks after the would-be wedding that Pam told Roy she needed to experience life living on her own. He agreed, though he didn't want to. He had been trying to be supportive, trying to help her though what he considered by then to be a temporary lapse in judgment, cold feet of the worst kind. But the truth was, deep down, he was scared. He felt her slipping away from him, felt their relationship cracking and breaking.

It was two months after she moved out that it really ended, once and for all. As much as it would seem anything but, the split was a mutual decision. Roy had felt that it was too much work, that being together shouldn't have been so hard. Pam had pretended to agree with him, though she secretly thought that if they were supposed to be together it wouldn't have felt so much like work. She thought it kinder to agree with him than to tell him that she believed to just didn't fit together anymore. That they were not just mis-matched pieces from the same puzzle, but that they had come to belong to entirely different puzzles all together. She knew she was no longer in love with him, that he was no longer what she wanted or needed. But she still cared about him and knew she always would.

* * *

Through it all, there was Jim. He'd ended up staying in Scranton, the decision to transfer taken out of his hands when the Stamford branch was closed unexpectedly after losing it's two biggest clients in the same week.

They did their best to remain friends in way they were before Jim's confession, before the kiss, before life became so complicated. He eventually told Pam about his almost-transfer and she'd been sad at the thought of losing him, but inspired by the lengths to which he was willing to go in order to improve his situation, even if the situation that needed improving was his proximity to her.

If was after this conversation that Pam went back to school. It was three weeks after Jim told her that watching her live a life she hated, that watching her with someone else hurt enough to make him change his entire life, and two and a half months after Roy told her he didn't think she was worth the effort, that Pam began illustrating and graphic design classes at Marywood, the school she'd attended after high school, when she was young and still believed in dreams. She worked at Dunder-Mifflin by day and came alive at night, taking in her classes and swallowing them whole.

Shortly after Pam began her classes, Jim followed her lead and enrolled in classes of his own. He'd realized that he loved meeting new people, loved creating something from nothing, loved making even boring things seem interesting. So he began taking evening classes in marketing and advertising, thinking it would lead to a career he could actually love.

* * *

Pam had said she needed time and time was what she got. Jim had promised both Pam and himself that he would give her all the time she needed. That he wouldn't push her. They were friends and she was taking steps to make herself happy and that was enough for him, for now. It was all he could reasonably expect.

And so it happened that it was almost a full year after Jim's confession that Pam gave in to what she had by then come to identify as a very deep love for Jim. It was after a year that Jim finally got the one thing he knew he couldn't live a satisfying life without.

It happened after Pam started doing freelance illustration work on the side, building a portfolio she would one day use to make her passion into a career.

It happened after Jim began a part-time internship at an advertising agency and cut his hours at Dunder-Mifflin to part-time, as well, Michael only agreeing because he'd been unable to stand the thought of losing his "bff" all at once.

It happened once they both knew what they wanted, knew, finally, how to make themselves happy.

It happened after Pam realized that the one thing missing from a life she loved was the one person who had made her believe that such a thing was possible.

And suddenly there had been _too much_ time.

Too much time spent hiding feelings.

Too much time spent pretending to be something they weren't and pretending not to be something they were.

Too much time wasted.

They knew it wouldn't be easy, knew that the transition from just friends to more than friends was almost never a smooth one. But they also knew that it would be worth it, knew they would be happy. Maybe not always, because no couple ever is, but that was okay. The hard times would be worth it, too. Because they had never really been just friends. They'd loved each other long before they'd admitted it to themselves, long before they'd allowed themselves to think _those_ thoughts.

Long before they realized that the moments they spent laughing together, talking together, just _together_, were the moments they lived for.

* * *

A/N: I hope you liked it! Please review and let me know what you think. I thought about taking it further, but the story was originally intended to be about the journey they had to take before beginning a relationship, not the relationship itself. If I explored that, this would probably never end. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


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